


heaven doesn't come with keys

by Ryah_Ignis



Series: Season 12 Codas [15]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: 12x15 Coda, M/M, but that's what it is, i can't believe i just tagged it, wing fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-14
Updated: 2017-03-14
Packaged: 2018-10-04 16:37:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10283321
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ryah_Ignis/pseuds/Ryah_Ignis
Summary: “This is Heaven that we’re talking about here, Cas.  That worries the hell out of me, okay?”Cas lets out a bitter laugh. “I don’t think you have to worry about me teaming up with them.”His wings, still incorporeal, fold in close to his body, even though there’s no one there but Dean to see them.  He can’t help himself; he’s pretty sure there’s a slight red tinge to his cheeks despite the fact he should be separate from his vessel.  Should be.  Maybe that’s why his wings are so—“Cas—”The words burst out before he can stop them. “They said I was broken.”Cas and Dean talk about Heaven and home.  12x15 coda.





	

They can all see.

Castiel tucks his tattered wings more closely to his back.  One flutters uneasily as someone brushes by; he hasn’t had so many people close to them in a long time.  He doesn’t miss how Kelvin’s eyes rove over them.  How no one quite looks him in the eyes because they’re more focused on the shredded feathers sticking out every which way.

Later, that’s all he can think about.

Cas lets himself into the bunker, some of the hollow feeling in his chest easing at the glide of the key in the lock.  Heaven doesn’t come with keys.  Doesn’t come with something to confirm that he belongs there.

“You’re home early,” Dean says as he walks into the war room, carrying a stack of books.

When he sets them down on the map table, a small puff of dust rises up.  He glares at them, as if they’ve personally set out to offend him with dirt in his bunker.  Cas swallows the lump in his throat at the word _home_. 

“I lost Kelly’s trail.”

Dean doesn’t look disappointed. “We’ll find her eventually.” Then, “Want a burger?  I’m about to start dinner.”

Heaven doesn’t have burgers, either.   Cas follows him obediently into the kitchen.  When he begins to roll up his sleeves to help, Dean pushes him gently on to one of the benches at the table.

“You’re quiet,” Dean notes.  He shoots Cas a smirk. “I mean, not your normal sort of quiet.”

Cas looks down at his hands, clasped on top of the table, before he speaks. “I was approached by an angel.  Joshua wants me back in Heaven.”

Dean stops right in the middle of shaping his second patty.  “Joshua.  As in the gardener guy?”

“Yes.”

Haltingly, he begins to shape the patty again, using a little more force than strictly necessary, not quite looking at Cas.  A long few moments go by as he sets the patties down one beside the other.  Then he moves to chop up some onions and tomatoes. (“Sammy always wants something green,” he’d told Cas once.)

“Are you going to?  Go back, I mean?”

Dean says it casually, but Cas can tell by the fact that he’s stalled right in the middle of putting the onions on his burger that he’s more affected than he’s letting on.

“I did.  And now I’m here.”

Dean puts the last piece of lettuce on the burger with a flourish before dumping all three burgers on a plate.  He doesn’t call Sam in for dinner, so Cas buckles in for a long conversation.

“Want to talk about the fact that you went to Heaven without telling me?”

Cas arches an eyebrow. “Do I have to tell you every time I go somewhere?”

“That’s not what I meant.” Dean sets an empty plate down in front of him and follows it up with a burger.  Cas can’t figure out why he bothered with a serving platter. “Rare, just the way you like it.”

He plops himself down on the bench beside Cas, instead of taking the more obvious seat across from him.  Cas becomes hyperaware of the body heat.  Dean takes a bite out of his burger before he speaks.

“This is Heaven that we’re talking about here, Cas.  That worries the hell out of me, okay?”

Cas lets out a bitter laugh. “I don’t think you have to worry about me teaming up with them.”

His wings, still incorporeal, fold in close to his body, even though there’s no one there but Dean to see them.  He can’t help himself; he’s pretty sure there’s a slight red tinge to his cheeks despite the fact he should be separate from his vessel.  Should be.  Maybe that’s why his wings are so—

“Cas—”

The words burst out before he can stop them. “They said I was broken.”

Dean stops, a piece of lettuce stuck comically to his chin.  He swipes it off as he swivels in Cas’s direction, his eyes narrowed.

“You’re not.”

Another headshake. “If you could see—”

“Could see what?” Dean snaps. “They don’t know crap, Cas.  They don’t know about you.  And besides.  If they did, they’d know—” He stops.

Cas takes a bite of his burger so he doesn’t have to reply right away.  Then, “If you could see my wings—”

Dean’s eyes light up.  He nearly kicks Cas as he swings himself off of the bench and runs straight out of the kitchen.  Cas watches him go with a dismal sort of apathy.  He can’t find it in himself to care anymore.  He sets down his burger.

“I can’t believe I’ve never thought about this befo—oh wow.”

He steps into the kitchen, wearing a pair of glasses that Cas has never seen before in his life.  He stops halfway through the threshold, mouth slightly agape.  Cas’s wings flutter uncomfortably, as if they can sense Dean’s eyes on them.

“You can—you can see?”

Dean nods dumbly. “Yeah.  Yeah I can.  Wow.”

They twitch.  Cas draws them tighter to his body, as if he can make a sort of cocoon with them.  Dean walks forward slowly, his eyes never leaving Cas’s even though Cas can tell he desperately wants them to be somewhere else.

“Can I—”

Cas tentatively extends the wing closest to Dean.  They’ve been scrunched up to his back so long that it almost hurts to stretch out.

“They’re beautiful, Cas.”

Carefully, he reaches out and skims his fingers through the flight feathers.  Cas lets out a quiet sigh.  Wings are meant to be cared for.  Cas hasn’t had another angel touch his wings in something like six or seven years.

“I thought the black was just the shadow,” Dean says, his fingers brushing lightly over the feathers.

“They were white,” Cas finds himself saying. “Then I went to Hell.  The ash—”

Dean’s hand stutters to a halt, still partially buried underneath a few stray feathers. “You mean when you came to get me?”

Cas shrugs.  The movement dislodges Dean’s hand.  When he doesn’t immediately reach to touch again, Cas feels an odd pang of regret.

“They’re wrong about you, Cas.”

Cas scoffs bitterly. “They weren’t wrong about my wings.”

They’re utterly wrecked. Cas doubts at this point that there’s anything to be done to fix them.  Even regaining his own Grace hadn’t done much to fix the shredded feathers along the edges, the old ones that should have molted a long time ago.

“No,” Dean admits, looking towards him as if for permission.  When Cas nods, he reaches up again. “But they’re like this because you cared.”

It takes another two nods for Dean to begin his work, much like another angel would.  He hunts out old feathers and tugs them loose, brushes his fingertips lightly over the bare patches.  He straightens the occasional wayward feather.  Cas’s eyes drift shut despite himself.  The load on his shoulders lightens with every touch.

“There,” Dean says some time later. “Feel any better?”

Cas pries his eyes open with some difficulty; this is the most he’s felt at peace in probably years. “Yes.  Thank you.”

The wings don’t look like they did nine years ago.  But Cas isn’t the same angel he was back then, either.

And, looking at the hesitant smile on Dean’s face, he wouldn’t have it any other way.

**Author's Note:**

> You all have been so sweet this season. Thank you so much for all the lovely support!


End file.
